Solemnity of St. Joseph, husband of the Blessed Virgin Mary
(II Samuel 7:405a.12-14a.16; Romans 3:13.16-18.22; Matthew 1:16.18-21.24a)
“Unless your righteousness surpasses that of the scribes and the Pharisees,” Jesus proclaims on the mountain, “you will not enter into the kingdom of heaven.” Perhaps Jesus discerned this new righteousness by observing his foster-father St. Joseph.
In today’s gospel Matthew tells us that Joseph is a “righteous man.” The measure of his righteousness is seen by his not allowing Mary to be exposed to shame. There exist motives for him to do so. We can imagine Joseph’s sense of outrage upon learning that his betrothed is pregnant by another. Also, it is reasoned that he would be able to keep Mary’s dowry if he divorces her publicly. But Joseph, as Jesus recommends throughout his sermon on true righteousness, moves secretly so that only God sees his good deed.
As we know well, Joseph’s accepting responsibility for Mary and Jesus involves ever greater sacrifices. In Matthew’s account of Jesus’ birth, Joseph must take his family to Egypt as refugees. Also, since Mary remains a virgin, Joseph foregoes sexual intimacy. Nowhere in the gospel does Joseph say a word, much less utter a complaint. He is the quiet hero who exemplifies the implicit righteousness that Jesus comes to bestow on all humans.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Thursday of the Fourth Week in Lent
(Exodus 32:7-14; John 5:31-47)
“The world is too much with us,” the poet William Wordsworth lamented two hundred years ago. If anything, the presence of the mundane has increased in the interim. Because of its inherent goodness, the world has been first glorified and then idolized. Thus, we see many people hankering after the super-lottery and new pharmaceutical aphrodisiacs.
Of course, the condition is much more than two centuries old. It befalls the Israelites in the desert as the reading from Exodus today indicates. The golden calf stands at once for God and a pagan deity. Its luster is supposed to convey the awesomeness of God, but, defying God’s prohibition of craven images, the calf becomes a testament to the human inclination to divinize wayward desires.
As Moses pleads with God for mercy toward the Israelites, Jesus argues with the people to accept his testimony. His miracles have shown that he is from God. His words have transmitted divine wisdom. But the people, forever desirous of demonstrations of power, fail to recognize Jesus’ prophecy. Heeding his arguments, we need to do better. We not only have to accept Jesus as God’s emissary but have to recognize him as “true God from true God,” to be followed completely and unreservedly.
(Exodus 32:7-14; John 5:31-47)
“The world is too much with us,” the poet William Wordsworth lamented two hundred years ago. If anything, the presence of the mundane has increased in the interim. Because of its inherent goodness, the world has been first glorified and then idolized. Thus, we see many people hankering after the super-lottery and new pharmaceutical aphrodisiacs.
Of course, the condition is much more than two centuries old. It befalls the Israelites in the desert as the reading from Exodus today indicates. The golden calf stands at once for God and a pagan deity. Its luster is supposed to convey the awesomeness of God, but, defying God’s prohibition of craven images, the calf becomes a testament to the human inclination to divinize wayward desires.
As Moses pleads with God for mercy toward the Israelites, Jesus argues with the people to accept his testimony. His miracles have shown that he is from God. His words have transmitted divine wisdom. But the people, forever desirous of demonstrations of power, fail to recognize Jesus’ prophecy. Heeding his arguments, we need to do better. We not only have to accept Jesus as God’s emissary but have to recognize him as “true God from true God,” to be followed completely and unreservedly.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Wednesday of the Fourth Week in Lent
(Isaiah 49:8-15; John 5:17-30)
No song expresses the glory of the Irish more than “Danny Boy.” It speaks of their love, their fidelity, and their religion. Danny – who is he? a son, a friend, possibly a sweetheart – leaves his homeland but cannot forget it or his people. He will return and pay his respects to both. And if that return is delayed, then the visit to his people will take the form of a prayer, an “Ave,” for the dead.
Because Christ is at the center of that prayer, the “Hail, Mary,” it would not be said in vain. Indeed, for the Irish as for all Christians, life is Christ. He enables us to love truly now and to ultimately triumph over the forces that condemn the dead to oblivion. The gospel today expresses this two-fold victory by Jesus saying that the Son gives life to whomever he wishes and that those in tombs will hear his voice and come out.
(Isaiah 49:8-15; John 5:17-30)
No song expresses the glory of the Irish more than “Danny Boy.” It speaks of their love, their fidelity, and their religion. Danny – who is he? a son, a friend, possibly a sweetheart – leaves his homeland but cannot forget it or his people. He will return and pay his respects to both. And if that return is delayed, then the visit to his people will take the form of a prayer, an “Ave,” for the dead.
Because Christ is at the center of that prayer, the “Hail, Mary,” it would not be said in vain. Indeed, for the Irish as for all Christians, life is Christ. He enables us to love truly now and to ultimately triumph over the forces that condemn the dead to oblivion. The gospel today expresses this two-fold victory by Jesus saying that the Son gives life to whomever he wishes and that those in tombs will hear his voice and come out.
Tuesday, March 15, 2010
Tuesday of the Fourth Week in Lent
(Ezekiel 47:1-9.12; John 5:1-16)
“...I think the river is a strong brown god,” T. S. Eliot wrote in his masterpiece, The Four Quartets. The evangelist John would reverse the idea. The river is not a god, but God is like a river. In today’s gospel he portrays Jesus with all the healing power of the river Ezekiel describes flowing from Jerusalem’s Temple. The paralytic at the Sheep gate, as sorry a dolt as we find in the gospels, is saved by this God.
Hopefully we have noticed that Lent has just taken a sharp turn. Its time to contemplate sinfulness has passed. Now it sets our sights on redemption. The executor of that grace comes to us as one like ourselves but as powerful as a river. We can return to Eliot’s elegant poem for instruction: “The point of intersection of the timeless/With time, is an occupation for the saint...For most of us..., there is only the unattended/Moment, the moment in and out of time, ...These are only hints and guesses, /Hints followed by guesses; and the rest /Is prayer, observance, discipline, thought and action.” We have but twenty days to pray, observe, discipline, think, and act so that we may recognize Christ when he passes over us offering salvation.
(Ezekiel 47:1-9.12; John 5:1-16)
“...I think the river is a strong brown god,” T. S. Eliot wrote in his masterpiece, The Four Quartets. The evangelist John would reverse the idea. The river is not a god, but God is like a river. In today’s gospel he portrays Jesus with all the healing power of the river Ezekiel describes flowing from Jerusalem’s Temple. The paralytic at the Sheep gate, as sorry a dolt as we find in the gospels, is saved by this God.
Hopefully we have noticed that Lent has just taken a sharp turn. Its time to contemplate sinfulness has passed. Now it sets our sights on redemption. The executor of that grace comes to us as one like ourselves but as powerful as a river. We can return to Eliot’s elegant poem for instruction: “The point of intersection of the timeless/With time, is an occupation for the saint...For most of us..., there is only the unattended/Moment, the moment in and out of time, ...These are only hints and guesses, /Hints followed by guesses; and the rest /Is prayer, observance, discipline, thought and action.” We have but twenty days to pray, observe, discipline, think, and act so that we may recognize Christ when he passes over us offering salvation.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Monday of the Fourth Week of Lent
(Isaiah 65:17-21; John 4:43-54)
Younger Next Year is one of many books promising a longer, healthier life. Its principal idea is that a proper regime of diet and exercise decreases your “biological age” even as your “physical age” advances. Although a good mix of diet and exercise should grant almost anyone a longer life, the concept of “biological age” is, at best, subtle. One can hardly arrest the whole process of aging. Similarly, we have to think hard about what Isaiah means when he promises that there will be a time when dying at a hundred would seem a short life.
We should understand the prophet to be expressing himself poetically, not literally. That is, Isaiah is commenting upon one’s spiritual life, not physical life. He means to say that in the new creation we will maintain the glory of youth and the wisdom of the aged. Death will be of no concern for us because we will have encountered the source of eternal life.
It may be hard to believe, but the new creation has already begun. Jesus has conquered death even though its cold reality swamps us at times. Humans will be dying until Jesus comes as he promised, but physical death need not be the last utterances of a person’s existence. When we give ourselves over to him, we enter the new creation. He buoys our lives to float above the currents of sin that would destroy us. At death he will give us spiritual life in its fullness. No one can say exactly what this will be like except that it will be like Jesus’ own life. Meanwhile, we should feel younger just by giving ourselves over to him.
(Isaiah 65:17-21; John 4:43-54)
Younger Next Year is one of many books promising a longer, healthier life. Its principal idea is that a proper regime of diet and exercise decreases your “biological age” even as your “physical age” advances. Although a good mix of diet and exercise should grant almost anyone a longer life, the concept of “biological age” is, at best, subtle. One can hardly arrest the whole process of aging. Similarly, we have to think hard about what Isaiah means when he promises that there will be a time when dying at a hundred would seem a short life.
We should understand the prophet to be expressing himself poetically, not literally. That is, Isaiah is commenting upon one’s spiritual life, not physical life. He means to say that in the new creation we will maintain the glory of youth and the wisdom of the aged. Death will be of no concern for us because we will have encountered the source of eternal life.
It may be hard to believe, but the new creation has already begun. Jesus has conquered death even though its cold reality swamps us at times. Humans will be dying until Jesus comes as he promised, but physical death need not be the last utterances of a person’s existence. When we give ourselves over to him, we enter the new creation. He buoys our lives to float above the currents of sin that would destroy us. At death he will give us spiritual life in its fullness. No one can say exactly what this will be like except that it will be like Jesus’ own life. Meanwhile, we should feel younger just by giving ourselves over to him.
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